


Scars on the Ice

by Kitzie



Category: RWBY
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9442004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitzie/pseuds/Kitzie
Summary: A gunslinger with a barbed tongue, a rogue with a taste for the scandalous, a mage with something to prove to his family and himself, and a warrior with a desire to shake the very bedrock of the world. It's time to introduce my OC Team: Team ONCS (pronounced onyx). Shall we see just how their actions will affect the World of Remnant?





	1. Ocean Trailer

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go with another story by my mate, Sin, this time for the RWBY fandom. For those of you only just now joining us, I'm his beta, but I post in his name here on AO3. I do specify because I eventually intend to post some of my own writing too, but for now you'll have to make do with our joint effort.  
> In the name of both Sin (you can find him under Untoldsin1313 on FF.net) and I, please enjoy!

 

**People remark upon the nature of the wolf, dismissing it as a cruel and savage creature. Yet what they witness — if anything — lives at the end of a tamer’s chain. Unaware or uncaring, they mistake the soul of a wild thing for the fury of a caged one.**

 

A shadowed figure landed on the roof of what was thought to be an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Vale’s industrial district. The figure’s face was cloaked in darkness with only twin spots of molten bronze visible where the minimal light reflected its metallic eyes. The figure moved towards the skylight, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that it was lit up. “So much for being abandoned,” a slightly raspy voice came from the shrouded figure. He, for the figure was now identifiable as male in the low light from the skylight, knelt next to the raised glass. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a strange device not unlike the end of a doctor’s stethoscope, though with a notable electronic box on the back and suction cups along the edges, and stuck it to the glass. Drawing a retractable cable from the side of the device, he connected it to a small earpiece already in his ear. 

“Get the rest of the Dust loaded up,” a commanding female voice came over the headset. “We might have been compromised. Come on, double time!”

The figure on the roof chuckled. “Unfortunately for you, Cerci, there’s no ‘might’ about it.” He retracted the cord from his ear piece and removed the device from the glass, tucking it away.

Another voice came over the earpiece. “You sure you want to do this alone, Okami?” the voice was feminine and seemed to have a natural silkiness to it. “I could always back you up.”

The man named Okami sighed. “This many Fang shouldn’t be an issue, Naty. Besides, Cerci has a bad habit of underestimating me.”

Natalia, the voice on the other end of the line, let out a surprisingly pitiful whine. “Always keeping all the fun to yourself.”

He chuckled in response. “Get the cops on the phone when I hang up. By the time they get here, I should be long gone.”

“Will do,” Natalia acknowledged, the whine still audible in her tone.

Okami stood as the line cut out and drew a pair of revolvers from two downward facing holsters on the back of his belt. One was a bright blue and shining white, while the other was darker royal blue and matte black. With a steadying breath, he leapt into the air, angling his body straight down and firing a round into the skylight to shatter the glass. After falling into the newly opened gap, he righted his body and landed amid the shattered glass.

Okami rose to his feet, his weapons, Tsukiko and Tsukikage held casually at his sides. Surrounding him was a group of perhaps twenty White Fang grunts, all leveling various firearms at him. He observed the group with a smirk, his now visible lupine ears twitching in anticipation. The invading faunus wore a dark blue shirt with a deep v-neck, the opening almost reaching his navel while his jeans were charcoal grey, matching the sleeves belted to his arms. His hair was midnight black with slate grey streaks. “Tell me, boys. You really think this is gonna end well for you?”

“Considering you dropped into a stronghold of the Fang, I wouldn’t be so cocky,” a tall, female faunus with a pair of short antlers on her head shoved through the crowd. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face after all you’ve done, Ao,” she snarled.

“Cerci,” Okami chuckled. “Long time no punch. How’s James doing? Oh, that’s right, he’s sitting in a cell in Vacuo. Tell ya what, you call off your dogs and I’ll make sure the Warden gives you two conjugal visitation rights.”

Cerci bared her teeth and snarled, “Waste him!”

Okami leapt over an empty metal crate bearing the emblem of the Schnee Dust company, crouching behind it as rounds pounded into the side. “Alright! You wanna do this hard way, fine! I’ve only brought twelve rounds so some of you have to share!”

 

_**~(Song: We Will Not Go Quietly by Sixx AM)~** _

 

Okami dove to the side using the various crates as cover as the White Fang unloaded their weapons. Once he heard the telltale clicks of empty magazines and the clatter of them hitting the floor, he rose up from behind the crates and began firing. Unlike the previous spray and pray of the grunts, Okami’s shots were on target, hitting several in the center of the forehead, crumbling their aura. The only thing keeping them on this side of the River Styx was the material of their masks. Even still, the high powered rounds concussed and knocked out those unlucky enough to take one to the head. Other rounds hit the unfortunate grunts in their hands, either breaking bones or knocking fresh magazines from them. 

Okami ducked back down behind his cover as one of the grunts managed to get his weapon reloaded and began spraying again. Finally mustering his courage, the Fang ran over to the boxes and jumped up on one, spying Okami laying back casually with his arms loosely crossed. Raising his weapon, the grunt pulled the trigger, only to be met with the ominous click of an empty mag. “Someone’s not keeping count,” Okami snickered, raising Tsukikage and firing, jerking the grunt’s head back as his aura shattered. Rolling back, Okami turned and sprinted near silently around to flank the rest of the White Fang. He slipped his weapons back into their holsters and peered over the top of his new cover. With a grin, he saw the group hadn’t seen or heard him move, and were now tentatively approaching his old position. ‘ _Idiots_ ’, he thought with a malicious mental chuckle. _‘Cerci brought a bunch of whelps this time it seems. Perfect for me.’_ Realizing their position made multiple sneak attacks risky and impractical, Okami decided to use their numbers against them. Running out from cover, he left his feet when he neared a cluster of three, driving his combat boots into the chest of the nearest grunt. With a startled yelp, the unfortunate Fang was launched into his two comrades.

Rolling back onto his hands to land in a very lupine crouch, Okami's eyes flashed as ice began to cover his arms, forming into the shape of old fashioned armor. Once the armor was complete, he grinned savagely and charged again, catching a grunt in the chin with a rising knee. Using the Fang’s shoulder as he crumpled, he launched himself into the air and nailed another grunt in the head with a flipping axe kick. Rolling through the landing, Okami drew his weapons once again, letting the bullets fired by the remaining grunts chip away at his armor. He moved quickly, using a combination of his firearms and kicks to decimate the remaining White Fang members.

 

_**~(End: We Will Not Go Quietly)~** _

 

He turned when he heard a strained grunt and spied a White Fang soldier crawling towards his weapon. Okami strode over, putting his boot on the rifle and levelling his twin revolvers at the prone grunt. “Now, I could pull some old movie references out here, but I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “I know exactly how many rounds I have left. The question is,” he pulled the hammers back. “Do you?” The soldier glared up at Okami for a long moment before lowering his head and retracting his hand. “Wise move.” Without further ado, he holstered his weapons and flipped the rifle up onto his foot, using it to launch the gun into his hands. With practiced ease, Okami field stripped the weapon, removing the barrel, magazine and charging handle. After tossing the pieces away, he began binding the hands and feet of the numerous unconscious and semi-conscious White Fang.

Okami frowned when he realized Cerci had disappeared at some point during the fight. He barely had time to process this before he felt a pair of hands grab his tail, spin and throw him into a pile of crates.

Cerci stood where Okami once did, her submachine gun ready in her hand. “Arrogant as always, you stupid mongrel,” she sneered, cocking the lever on her weapon and bringing it up to her shoulder. “I’m gonna pump you full of holes, then drag your worthless carcass back to Sienna Khan.”

Expecting a snide answer, Cerci was surprised to be greeted with a feral growl. The temperature of the warehouse seemed to drop sharply, causing Cerci to suddenly see steam forming from her breath. Amid the fallen crates, she spied two glowing spots of icy blue. “You know better, Cerci,” came Okami’s snarling, all jocularity gone from his voice. “You know better than to lay your filthy paws on my tail. Now… now I’m gonna show you why this is one wolf you don’t want at your door.”

 

_**~(Song: Wolf At Your Door by Sixx AM)~** _

 

Okami erupted from the crates, his eyes now a shocking ice blue with black sclera and his fangs bared. After a few seconds of letting the frigid wind billow around him, he charged, guns shifting in his hands. The main body of the revolver flipped up to rest parallel with the grip while the frame beneath the barrel followed suit, rotating up to cover the muzzle. The movement bared the blades of Okami’s beloved weapons and the points extended from the middle sections, completing the transformation, revealing the second form to be that of a pair of arming swords.

Cerci opened fire, her heavy pistol rounds tearing through the air towards the wolf faunus. With alarming speed and dexterity, he used his weapons to deflect the rounds, what had remained of his ice armor being shed when he’d collided with the crates. Cerci bared her teeth, her own weapon shifting into a two-bitted battle axe in her hands that she swung to intercept the furious wolf. Okami slid under the swing and slashed at Cerci’s leg, the blade slicing through her pants, but stopped from causing further damage by her aura. Okami spun his hips, lashing out with a kick that intercepted Cerci’s next swing and propelled himself away and back to his feet.

With a snarl, Okami pulled the triggers on his weapons, activating the secondary function and releasing Dust into the blades. Immediately, the metal erupted into flames as the Burn Dust made contact with air. Cerci jerked back at the flames now licking at the metal of her weapon as Okami collided with her. “What’s wrong, Cerci?!” he barked. “You were talking all that good shit a second ago! Is it finally dawning on you?! Is it finally getting through that horned dome of yours that this wasn’t a fight you should’ve picked?! I gave you a chance! But now — now I’m gonna tear you apart!”

Okami shoved the deer faunus off him, immediately going on the offensive, attacking from every angle with both his weapons and his legs. Baffled by the ferocious offence, Cerci was forced to defend exclusively with no opportunity to bringing her strength and larger weapon to bear. Finally tired of being on the receiving end, Cerci lashed out with a hasty punch, managing to catch Okami in the cheek and sending him flying.

Okami shook off the blow quickly, twisting his body in midair to land feet first on one of the support beams. Before launching himself back into the fight, he flicked his thumbs, rotating the cylinder of his weapons. With another squeeze of the trigger, wind began spiralling around his blades. With another vicious snarl, he hurled himself off the pillar, swinging both weapons down and flaring his icy aura, letting loose a horizontal cyclone of blistering wind and shards of ice.

Cerci, nowhere to go, lifted her axe to defend, but to no avail. The unfortunate White Fang lieutenant was blown off her feet to slam into another pillar, a film of crackling energy surrounding her, signifying her aura was finally shattered.

 

**_~(End: Wolf at Your Door)~_ **

 

Okami sneered, flicking his wrists and returning his weapons to their revolver form. He stalked towards his downed foe, boots crushing the sharp chunks of ice underfoot as he slipped his revolvers back into their holsters. Cerci was barely conscious as Okami approached. “I warned you, Cerci. I wasn’t about to lose to one of you animals. Give Jimmy my regards,” with a sharp twist of his hips, Okami kicked Cerci across the face, knocking her unconscious.

The wolf faunus spat to the side with a scowl. Looking around briefly, he found a few lengths of chain. Using these over the zip-ties he’d brought for the others, he bound her hands and feet. As he turned to leave, he noticed a clasped hook hanging from the ceiling just behind him. With a vindictive grin, he grabbed the hook and yanked, hearing the winch it was attached to click as the cable descended. He approached Cerci again, attaching the hook to the chain wrapped around her ankles. With an evil snicker, Okami walked over and grabbed the winch.

 

* * *

 

Okami stood on the building opposite the warehouse. He had just finished trussing Cerci up like a grimly humorous caricature of a hunting trophy when the red and blue lights of approaching police had lit up the warehouse. Deciding to let the cops wonder who had broken up this particular cell of White Fang, he’d left through the skylight.

Watching with interest as the officers detained foolish faunus brethren, Okami kept to the shadows of the taller building. Cerci herself was tossed into the back of a heavily armored van, still wrapped in chains. With a satisfied nod, Okami left the edge of the building and made to leave the rooftop, aiming to return to the main section of the city. As he neared the other side of the roof, a chirp in his ear reminded him of the earpiece he still wore.

Okami lifted his hand to the device. “Ao,” he said shortly.

“Interesting night, I take it?” came a smooth, familiar voice.

“Oh. Hello, Headmaster,” Okami blinked, surprised Ozpin was calling him.

“Good evening, Mr. Ao,” Ozpin greeted him, his tone mildly amused at the slightly baffled tone of his student. “I trust your mission went to your satisfaction?”

“Considering a bunch of White Fang shovelheads are headed to the pound,” Okami quipped, glancing over his shoulder to see the police peeling out. “I’d say tonight was fairly productive.”

“Very good,” Ozpin sounded suitably satisfied. “I expect your report by tomorrow evening.”

“Yessir,” Okami said with a nod.

“Be sure to get back to your dorm before Madam Goodwitch notices your absence. I’m afraid I won’t be able to cover for you this time.”

“I know the deal, Headmaster,” Okami assured him. “I’ll be in bed before she even notices I went missing.” With that, both sides hung up and Okami launched himself off the building, running along the rooftops and heading back towards the looming academy in the distance.

 


	2. Navy Trailer

**Live in the now, with whoever you can. Never let the future disturb you… you will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.**

 

Natalia Violeta strolled towards the entrance of a familiar dance club on the shady side of town. The guards at the door swallowed and reached for their weapons. “Now, now, boys,” the alluring young woman purred. “Surely, this is unnecessary. I’m not here for a fight. I just need a little info your boss owes me.”

The guards looked at each other. It didn’t escape them that Natalia was a very beautiful young woman; her dark brown hair fell just above her shoulders in silky waves, restrained by a deep purple bandana. Her long, slender legs were in skinny jeans of the same color and comparatively subdued red and brown thigh high boots. Her top resembled a corset, laced mouth-wateringly low with red cords holding together a slightly darker violet cloth. Around her hips opposite the Cutlass on her left was a dark red scarf, emblazoned with a deep purple bat.

The guards, having already dealt with one Huntress level fighter over the last week, had little desire to anger yet another. Begrudgingly, they removed their hands from their weapons and stood aside.

“See? Not everything has to end in violence, right?” she giggled silkily as she brushed by into the club.

The club was surprisingly quiet. Natalia witnessed many of the henchman normally guarding the club installing a new dance floor and numerous speakers. Shaking her head and wondering what kind of tornado had torn through the place, she headed over to the man in charge. Hei Xiong, known more commonly as Junior, looked haggard and tired, like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in at least a few days.

Spotting Natalia, Junior groaned. “Look, sweetheart, as you can see I’m not in the mood to talk. And I already had to deal with one of you types this week.”

“Yes, I was meaning to ask about that. Who let a pissed off Ursa in here?” Natalya ask, surveying the damage with fresh eyes.

Junior snorted. “An Ursa, I could handle. No, all this was done by a girl about your age. Came by looking for info and when I didn’t have it, she did this.”

“Hm. Well, luckily for you, I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m cashing in that favor you owe me,” Natalia’s voice lost the silky tone and became all business. “The Dragon’s Heart. Where is it being stored? I know you know, Junior. My client is looking to… acquire it.”

Junior groaned again. “Fine. But this makes us square. Next time you want info, you pay just like everybody else.”

Natalia smiled wickedly.

 

* * *

 

_**~(Song: Heathens by Twenty One Pilots)~** _

 

Slinking silently along the rooftops, Natalia made her way to the building opposite the opulent exterior of the Vale Museum of Natural History. Spying the recently added posters, she quickly found one reading, “COMING SOON!! THE DRAGON’S HEART, THE LARGEST JEWELLERY GRADE PYRITE GARNET EVER DISCOVERED!!!”

Natalia shook her head as she took note the exhibit opened the following morning. _Idiots,_ she internally chided. _That’s just begging any red-blooded thief to waltz in and take it. If they have the usual security, this will be easier than a two lien hooker…_

Natalia’s internal monologue was cut off as she spotted a familiar face patrolling the museum in a security guard uniform. A young man, whom she’d had dealings with in the past but only caught the alias of, Red, seemed to have found a new career. She thought it more suitable for a young father than one of Junior’s bouncers. Sighing with regret, she realized she may well get the poor man fired.

Again.

Moving through the numerous blind spots in the exterior camera view, Natalia made her way to the roof. Finding a loose pane in the domed skylight, she jammed the blade of her dagger, Devil’s Advocate, between the glass and the metal frame. She slipped through the opening and dropped into the rafters, muffling her landing with her semblance.

Glancing around when her feet finally found the floor, Natalia quickly found the way to the mineral section.

_Could this get any more flashy?_ she thought. The Dragon’s Heart was on an ornate pedestal at the center of the room, encased in a three-by-three foot cube of plexiglass surrounded by a velvet rope and small spotlights aimed at said cube. The lights were off, but Natalia’s eyes still picked up the gorgeous, blood-red shine of the jewel. About the circumference and height of the barrel of a whiskey bottle, it was vaguely shaped like a cartoon heart. This shape and deep crimson color of the jewel led to its ostentatious, though poetically fitting name.

Natalia approached the display cautiously, noting the pressure sensitive devices along the bottom of the case. While disabling them wouldn’t be difficult, it would be time consuming, so she decided to use a time tested method.

Pulling a modified glass cutter from a pouch on her leg, she stuck the suction cup to the center of the case. Pressing the switch on the back of the cutter, a dull red light came from the blade. Slowly and carefully, she used the dust heated metal to carve a circle in the plexiglass. When the cutter returned to its original position, she pulled the cutter and newly cut section of case from the main body.

Removing the cutter from the glass and tucking it away, Natalia warmed her hands just in case there was an unseen sensor and she had to be cautious. She inched her hand in and wrapped it slowly around the widest portion she could keep a grip on.

The Heart had just cleared the hole when her own nearly stopped. Behind her, a gun safety was flicked off.

“I had a feeling you’d show up here sooner or later, Nat,” said Red, a civilian issue handgun levelled at Natalia’s head. A stunning baton lay in his off hand.

“Oh, come on, Red,” Natalia sighed. “Do you really want us to go down this road again?”

“You got the drop on me last time,” Red growled. “Not this time, darlin’,”

Natalia groaned and shook her head. “As you wish,” she lamented. With a quick flick of her wrist, Natalia tossed the small circle of plexiglass straight at Red. In the time it took him to duck the projectile, Natalia had drawn her sword and was on top of him. The Cutlass, named Wicked Grace, clashed off the stun baton as Natalia forced Red’s handgun to the side with the flat of Devil’s Advocate.

With a twist of her curvy hips, Natalia upset the balance of the lockup and used Red’s forward momentum against him by flipping him over her shoulder. The handgun skittered from his grip, causing Red to lash out with the baton. With alarming speed, Natalia blocked the strike and yanked him forward slightly so his backside left the ground. Natalia slipped behind him, snaking her arm around Red’s neck. Jumping up and wrapping her legs around his abdomen and slipping an arm under Red’s and around his head, she began applying pressure, much like a large constrictor.

Red choked as Natalia’s arms and legs tightened around him. Even as his vision began to darken, he heard Natalia whisper, “I’m sorry.”

As soon as Red went limp, Natalia rolled him off her, the swiftly leant down carefully to check his breathing. Satisfied that it was slow but steady, she quickly strode back to the case and retrieved the jewel from the floor.

 

_**~(End: Heathens)~** _

__

* * *

 

Rost Faust, Natalia’s ‘client’, snickered as he examined the Heart. “I can scarcely believe you did it. But with the Dragon’s Heart in my hands, I guess we can consider your debt paid in full, and, since I’m such a kind person, I think you have earned a bonus.” Faust closed the case containing the jewel and pulled an envelope from his coat. “Consider it a thanks for the show.”

Natalia nodded and took the envelope, spying a few thousand lien inside. “Very well. Then I’ll consider our time together at an end.”

“A shame,” Faust sighed. “If you change you mind…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Natalia sighed, before turning and leaving.

Faust shook his head at the young woman’s foolishness and headed back to his desk. He chuckled as he grasped the clasps of the case. Flipping it open, his jaw dropped.

The Heart was gone, replaced by what was very clearly a microphone. Attached to the base was a note. “Consider this your receipt,” he read. His eyes jerked towards the window of his office, seeing the all too familiar red and blue lights.

“Rost Faust, this is the VPD!” came a voice over a mega phone. “We have you surrounded! Give yourself up, or we will use force!”

Meanwhile, Natalia was strolling through a nearby alley, another case in her hand. “We’re far enough away now, honey,” she purred. “You can show yourself again.”

As sigh from seemingly nowhere met her words. Suddenly, a tall young man was standing next to her, appearing in a fiery crackle of aura. His long, bright red coat covered most of his frame. “You sure it was a good idea to screw Faust over like that? He’ll get out one day.”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Natalia assured him. “Don’t be so doom and gloom, Cormac! I have your share right here!” She handed her team mate about a third of her payment. “Set your mind at ease any?”

“I am content,” Cormac chuckled.

“Good. I have one more stop to make and then we better get back before Okami has our guts for garters.”

 

* * *

 

David ‘Red’ Auburn, scratched his head as he made his way to his boss’s office. He’d come to about an hour after Natalia had choked him out. Now, he was wondering how he was going to explain to his daughter he’d lost his job. Again. His ex might even get full custody after this.

Taking a deep breath, David opened the door he’d been staring at while he contemplated his future.

Damian Stone, the curator of the museum greeted David with a surprisingly warm smile. “Mr. Auburn, thank you for coming. I trust you are unharmed after last night’s…. Incident?”

“Nothing hurt but my pride, sir,” David said bashfully.

“I am glad to hear that,” Mr. Stone nodded. “Well, I suppose it is time to fill you in on what exactly happened last night.”

“Sir?” David queried.

“Yesterday evening I was approached by Headmaster Ozpin with a proposition. In exchange for some practice for one of his students, he would appraise our security. All that was necessary was to go about the evening watch as normal. Now, I’m sure you were quite nervous about the fall out from last night. Let me assure you, you did everything thing correctly in the face of an intruder. You called the police and attempted to detain the interloper. The only flaw was the intruder herself has huntress training. So, as a reward, I’m giving you the rest of the week off with double pay for the entirety of the week. And when you return, we will have to have a long chat about your raise.”

David’s jaw dropped. “Pardon?”

Mr. Stone chuckled. “You heard correctly.”

“But… the Heart was stolen…” David stammered.

“Yes, but our thief,” Mr. Stone lifted a black metal case onto his desk. “Was kind enough to return the Dragon Heart.” Opening the case, Mr. Stone turned it to reveal the enormous garnet. “She also revealed the flaws in our camera system so that when you return, the first line of defense for our precious exhibits will hopefully match the dedication of our last.”

David sat down hard, his hand dragging through his hair as he was processing this new information. He wasn’t being fired; in fact he’d been given five days off, paid double on top of that, and the Heart was safe. “I’m honestly speechless, sir.”

“Quite understandable, son,” Mr. Stone patted him on the shoulder. “You head on home and take it easy for the next few days. Oh, but before you do…” The curator reached into his blazer and removed and envelope. “You are commonly called Red, no? Our light-footed benefactor left this for you with the Heart.”

David took the envelope and saw the name Red written in loopy penmanship on the front. Tucking it away, David stood, only slightly shakily. “Thank you, Mr. Stone. I’d better get home. I… think I need a nap.”

Mr. Stone chuckled merrily. “Of course, Mr. Auburn. Enjoy the rest of your week. You most certainly earned it.”

 

* * *

 

Outside the museum, David opened the envelope he’d stowed in his shirt pocket. Pulling the folded piece of paper from within, he braced himself for mockery. What he found surprised him.

_Dear Red,_

_Let me start off by apologizing. I honestly did not know that you worked at the Museum. I know it seems like I’m stalking you and trying to ruin your life. I promise I’_ _m not._

_To make up for knocking you out… Again... I left you a third of the money from the, well, let’s call it “sale” of the Dragon’s Heart. All I can say is that you’re not the only old friend I dealt with last night. Faust is heading to prison for a long time so you don’t have to worry about him breathing down your neck anymore. Check inside the envelope. The money should help. We don’t want your daughter going hungry now do we?_

_Take care of yourself._

_Natalia Violeta_

Red dug into the envelope and for the second time that day, his jaw dropped. Inside was what had to be close to a thousand lien. With this combined with his soon to come pay, he would have enough money for his daughter’s school books and they didn’t have to survive on just cheap TV dinners and lunch meat. And that was before factoring this talk of a raise.

For the first time in a long time, David Auburn felt like his luck was finally turning around.

 

* * *

 

“That was quite generous of you.”

Natalia jump as her Headmaster seemed to materialize behind her. “Not really. I was just paying off a debt.”

Ozpin hummed quietly. “Perhaps. But Mr. Auburn and his daughter will live a better life now because of you. Whether that was your intention or not, it is still a fact.”

Natalia ducked her head.

“I do wish you would let more people see this side of you, Miss Violeta. There’s nothing wrong with doing a kindness for others.”

“I’d rather not disappoint the people I care about, Headmaster,” Natalia mumbled.

“If your heart is in the right place, then I am certain you will not. But I suppose those are thoughts for another time. You had best get to bed. Classes resume tomorrow after all.”

Natalia nodded and headed back towards her dorm room, her thoughts swirling with musings of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Character development in a trailer? And one so soon after the first? Yeah, let’s just say I was bit by the inspiration bug. A good portion of this was written in one shot. I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to the next trailer. Oh and by the way at the beginning of the first chapter I will be including the BIOS of all four main characters.  
> ~Sin


	3. Crimson Trailer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this trailer takes place two years before RWBY volume 1

 

**“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”**

Cormac Oráiste straightened his gauntlet and checked the action on his trump card. Satisfied the simple mechanism functioned correctly, he pulled the burnt-orange hood draped over his neck up to cover his fiery, ginger hair. After ensuring the rest of his armor was sitting where it was meant to, Cormac grabbed the weapon sitting next to him. He looked over the short spear, taking note of the edge of the hatchet blade opposite the spearhead. With his weapon’s condition meeting his expectations, he finally stood and headed towards the large double doors leading out of the locker room he’d been suiting up in, sliding his weapon, Luigsech, into its holster at the small of his back.

The doors swung open, and the roar of the crowd who’d gathered to witness the Mistral regional tournament immediately bombarded Cormac. With a small smirk, he made his way to the ring for what would be his last shot at the championship before he moved on to one of the major combat schools.

He had already been scouted and contacted by Atlas, but Cormac didn’t fancy himself a soldier. He had his eyes on Beacon, but only time would tell.

 ** _“Now making his way into the arena,”_** came the bellow of the announcer. **_“From Shion, right here on Anima, Cormac Oráiste!"_**

He calmly strolled to the ring, no boasting or cocky taunting. He would occasionally raise his hand when someone called to him directly, but nothing else. His eyes narrowed slightly as they found his opponent.

It wasn’t the first time his path had crossed with Cardin Winchester. The rich brat had beaten him two years prior, though he’d avenged the loss the year after, having learned the tall young man had a highly exploitable temper. This would be their final encounter before the Vytal festival the year after next. Cormac was determined to win the rubber match, as the old timers called it.

Winchester scowled as Cormac stepped onto the granite ring. “You got lucky last year, Twiggy. This time, I’m gonna crush you into the dust.”

“Funny,” Cormac deadpanned. “I was planning on telling you something similar, you stupid brute. Still have that burn mark on your ass?”

Cardin snarled as the bell rang and charged. Leading with his typically blunt opening move, Cardin reared back for an overhead strike with his mace.

“Idiot,” Cormac sneered, drawing his spear and parrying with the flat of the head. When the heavy head of Cardin’s mace slammed into the stone floor, Cormac leaned in. “If you’re looking to crush me, you’re gonna have to be a hell of a lot less sloppy.”

 

_**~(Song: Warriors by Papa Roach)~** _

 

Cormac backhanded Cardin with the ornate counter balance of his spear, stunning the larger warrior. Cormac had learned in his last two encounters with the temperamental young man that staying in sustained melee with a short weapon would end poorly, so he leapt backwards, hitting an almost invisible trigger in the grip of his weapon. With a sharp rotation of his wrist, Cormac spun Lugiseach perpendicular to the ground, allowing both ends to extend from a short spear/hatchet to a longer spear with a poleaxe blade at the opposite end.

Displaying uncanny dexterity and a rare bout of showboating, Cormac continued the momentum of the spin using techniques he learned with a bo staff to supplement his spear fighting. Deciding to cut the display after a few moments, Cormac brought his weapon back into his dominant hand, holding it to his side and slightly behind his back with the spearhead ready and the axe angled up along his back.

He raised his hand towards Cardin, and, with a taunting smirk, beckoned the armor-clad warrior mockingly. Cardin charged with a roar, any previous plans completely gone from his mind. _All too easy to get under this idiot’s skin,_ Cormac thought, ducking a heavy blow and retaliating with a swift thrust of his spear. While the blow didn’t do much damage to Cardin’s aura, Cormac didn’t need it to. He wasn’t a power fighter, and was much more content using numerous lesser strikes to both infuriate and wear down the obviously stronger Winchester.

As the exchange went on, Cardin got angrier and angrier, his swings losing all sense of discipline while Cormac’s grew bolder and bolder. Spying an opening, he used the blunted edge on the inside of the beard of his axe blade to hook Cardin’s ankle. With a strong jerk, Cardin was thrown off balance, his newest strike smashing pointlessly into the stone floor of the ring. Sidestepping around Cardin, Cormac left his feet, jumping high up, intent on using his momentum to deliver powerful thrust.

What the crimson fighter forgot in that moment was that, despite its weight, Cardin could still use his massive flanged mace with one arm. With a vicious backhand, Cardin sent Cormac flying, the cloaked warrior sliding to a halt not five feet from the edge of the ring.

With a grunt, Cormac got up slowly, glancing at the screen displaying his and Cardin’s Aura level. With that one attack, Cardin had nearly nullified any leads on Aura Cormac had. Cormac grit his teeth and spun his weapon around so the axe blade and more importantly the counter balance faced outward. What many didn’t realize was the red stone set between two entwined gold tails was not just decorative. It was in fact a Burn dust crystal. Cormac channeled his Aura into the crystal and began using more of the bo staff techniques, but rather than defensive spinning, the motions had a defined pause as if from a strike before flowing into the next movement. What made them even more unusual was the ball of burning Dust that erupted from the crystal and seemed to home in on Cardin.

The tall huntsman in training tried gamely to bat aside the burning attacks, but just as many struck him as he deflected.

Cormac, seeing his attacks were merely chipping away at Cardin’s aura, flicked his left wrist, revealing his new toy. A nozzle, akin to a gun barrel but with a much smaller bore, slid from his left gauntlet and sat ready above the palm of his left glove. With another spark of his Aura, Cormac produced a shimmering light orange flame from the tip of the nozzle. Lifting his left hand parallel with the counter balance of his spear, Cormac sent an enormous stream of flames roaring at Cardin.

Cardin brought his arms up just in time to blunt the damage, but his Aura still took a massive hit. With a low growl, he lowered his arms and brushed the smoking embers from his armor. Glaring over at his opponent, he saw Cormac still standing where he had been. His eyes narrowed when he saw Cormac’s glove was still smoking.

Cormac smirked and swiftly brought his left hand up, pointing two fingers to the sky. Cardin looked down, now noticing the scattered remains of powdered Burn Dust. Only now, the spent remains had begun glowing and a circular glyph formed right under him. Cardin looked up just in time to see Cormac’s aura spark, and everything vanished in a blinding flash of light.

Cardin Winchester sailed through the air and slammed into the force barrier separating the combat arena from the stands.

 ** _“Cardin Winchester is eliminated via ring out_ and _aura level!”_** The announcer’s voice rang through the arena once more. **_“Your winner and finalist, Cormac Oráiste!!!”_**

Cormac retracted his weapon, bowing slightly to the crowd before retreating to his locker room to await his final opponent.

 

_**~(End: Warriors)~** _

 

* * *

 

Cormac sighed as he removed his armor. He was a bit sour at his loss, but considering whom it was to, he supposed he had a tangible reason to improve. Bettering one’s self for the sake of it was all well and good but it was both easier and more satisfying when one had something definite to work towards.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” came a slightly musical voice.

Cormac smirked slightly at the irony. _What’s the phrase? Speak of the Grimm…?_ He turned to see his fellow finalist and the winner of her third Mistral Regional Tournament in a row, Pyrrha Nikos.

“You’re not, Miss Nikos,” Cormac assured her. He rotated his shoulder, now freed of its pauldron. “Congratulations, as well. Three in a row. Has to be some kind of record.”

Pyrrha colored slightly. “Thank you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. That last fall looked painful.”

Cormac grinned ruefully. A force, Cormac suspected Pyrrha’s semblance of either polarity or straight telekinesis, had slammed into his chest when he had locked spearhafts with Pyrrha’s Milo and she had tried to force him back. He guessed she put more into her attack than she meant to if how he flipped three times and landed hard on his front was any indication.

“Nothing seriously damaged but my pride, Miss Nikos,” Cormac chuckled.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Pyrrha smiled. “You fought well. I’m looking forward to our rematch next year.”

Cormac winced. “Unfortunately I won’t be competing in the Tournament next year.”

Pyrrha looked crestfallen. The Spartan had trouble finding an opponent that she could call an equal. She didn’t like to think of herself as arrogant but so few of her peers offered any measure of challenge. Cormac had forced her to use her semblance, which was an extreme rarity. And while she couldn’t call them close friends, she did get along well with the tall Dust mage. “Oh,” she mumbled. “You’re not dropping out are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Cormac quickly quashed that line of thought. “I’m moving on to one of the main Combat schools.”

“Oh!” Pyrrha brightened. “Well, perhaps we’ll be able to spar in class or, at least, during the Vytal Festival in a few years.”

Cormac nodded with a grin. “Hope you don’t expect a repeat of today the next time we meet.”

Pyrrha shoved his shoulder. “I’ve beaten you more times than just today,”

“I was being nice those ten times,” Cormac snickered.

Pyrrha rolled her eyes. “If it saves your ego. Anyway, I have to find my parents. No doubt they’ve wrangled some reporter or some such nosy individual to pester me,” she shook her head ruefully. “Good luck in the big leagues.”

Cormac nodded. “Take care, Miss Nikos.”

After the Spartan woman left, Cormac returned to removing his armor. Once he’d pulled his reinforced leather cuirass off, he heard a three-pronged knock at the locker room door. Turning to address the newest interloper, Cormac’s voice caught in his throat.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, slender, surprisingly unremarkable looking man. A shock of dull silver hair scattered across the top of his head haphazardly. Small, circular eyeglass rested just below the bridge of his nose, slightly obscuring sharp, intelligent coffee brown eyes. He wore a simple (by Cormac’s age group anyway) forest green suit. In his left hand was a waist-high cane with what looked like either a lever or handguard protruding from where the shafts met the grip, and a set of gears visible through gaps in the sliver casing. In his right was a simple coffee mug emblazoned with the Sigil of Beacon Academy.

Cormac stood, speechless as Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon, stood outside his locker room. After a moment, Ozpin’s eyebrow raised slightly and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smirk. “May I come in, Mr. Oráiste?”

Cormac shook himself slightly and gestured into the room. “Of course, Professor. My apologies, I did not expect you.”

“Yes, I gathered from the flabbergasted stare,” Ozpin said dryly. Cormac flushed a bit as Headmaster sat down on one of the benches, setting his cane next to his leg.

“Not to sound rude, Headmaster, but may I ask why you’re here?” Cormac asked after Ozpin had made himself comfortable. “You never struck me as the type to visit a stranger for a social call.”

“Indeed,” Ozpin hummed. “I had hoped to speak to you personally before James got his hooks in you.”

Cormac frowned. “James, sir?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. General Ironwood. He’s been rather boastful about how he was going to recruit you.”

Cormac found his lips lifting slightly. “You want to recruit me to spite the General.”

Ozpin put on a nonchalant expression, gazing around at the locker room as if he had never been in one. “Well, I will not deny the idea for such a bonus has its charm, though it is not the main reason I am here. In truth, Mr. Oráiste, I’ve had my eye on you for some time. To put it plainly, I want to extend you the offer of attending Beacon. Unless, of course General Ironwood has already convinced you to attend Atlas.”

Cormac frowned slightly. “With all due respect to the General, I don’t see life as a military grunt suiting me very well. I started training as a huntsman to be a huntsman, not a… Specialist, or whatever they’re called, and swearing myself to one Kingdom. So, if I had my choice it wouldn’t be Atlas, Headmaster.”

Ozpin smirked. “Then it seems my ability to read people has not diminished as much as I had feared. Very well, Mr. Oráiste.” The silver haired teacher pulled his scroll from his coat and typed something before swiping his finger. After a moment, Cormac’s own scroll beeped, indicating he’d received something. Opening the device, he found a new icon on his home screen in the shape of Beacon’s emblem. “That file contains your registration code for the new semester. Just have the pilot scan your scroll and you’ll be able to board. To say it officially, your application to Beacon Academy has been approved. And I expect to see you disembark at 9 am sharp the day before initiation.”

“You will, Headmaster,” Cormac grinned.

Ozpin nodded, pocketed his scroll and stood up to leave, snatching his cane up. As he neared the door he turned back. “Oh and one last thing. If I have my way, I’d say you will have your rematch with Miss Nikos sooner rather than later,” with that, Ozpin left with a small, mischievous grin.

Cormac chuckled and sat down, his eyes finding the Beacon Icon once more. The sting of his loss to Pyrrha had greatly diminished. His day would come. Now all he had to do was wait for the new semester and figure out what to do with his winnings from the tournament. _Ah, well. Thoughts for later. Better find Mom and Dad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took longer than it should have. Sorry for that. Various and annoying issues kept me from writing as efficiently. I am now writing full time on my phone. Yup. Old computer died. Luckily I had been getting paranoid and backing up any writing on a flash drive and my cell. Since I’ve gotten better at typing on my phone, as long as the inspiration is there, I’ll be able to write at a decent clip. Hell, I finished most of the dialogue section while sitting at my grandmother’s for a late Easter. With all that said, thank you again for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting. I’ll see ya when I update next.  
> ~Sin


	4. Shamrock Trailer

**Freedom lies in being bold**

Sonia Zeleny sighed as she pushed another round into the magazine. Once the projectile clicked into place she turned to her father, whom she’d been having a twenty minute argument with, in the doorway of the shed she’d commandeered as her workshop.

“Papa,” she said, her exasperated voice indicative of the fact they’d had this conversation dozens of times before. “I understand why you don’t want me doing this, but I’ve already told you a thousand times now. This is what I want to do with my life.”

“That’s not what we were talking about, Sonia,” her father grumped. “I might not be able to stop you from training, but I don’t like you going into the forest alone.”

Sonia groaned in irritation. “And like I said, I’m not. The Headman couldn’t afford another Huntsman and I’m the only one still in town with any combat training. I let you talk me out of going to Signal, or Sanctum, or any of the other combat schools and instead got a personal tutor. But next year, I’m eligible to apply for Atlas and the other main schools. And I’m going to apply. So this smoke screen about the Grimm right now isn’t fooling me, Dad! I’ve gone out alone before. And this time, I may be clearing an area alone, but I’ll have backup just in case,” Sonia stood up and grabbed her weapon, Gaia Splinter, shoving the fresh magazine into it. She pulled back the charging handle and placed the rifle/cleaver hybrid on the magnetic plate on her hip. “Look, I have to go, Dad. I’ll be out late so I’ll be as quiet as I can when I get home.” She grabbed her Scroll and pushed open the door next to the one her father was standing in and strolled into her yard. Glancing back to make sure her father was out of the doorway, she hit an icon on her scroll, causing both doors to slam shut. A whirring sound indicated the doors automatic crash bar locks had been secured. A chirp from her scroll let her know the shed was secured.

It depressed her that she had to lock down her workshop, Sonia mused, but it was unfortunately necessary. The previous winter she’d found her father trying to confiscate Gaia Splinter from her room as a bargaining tool to keep her from continuing her training. So, she’d moved into the shed and used some obsolete mecha-shift and her busted old Scroll to rig up the automatic doors and locks. The fallout had made the environment in the house very tense, as Sonia had bluntly refused to speak to her father for almost a month. She’d told her mother a few weeks in that if her father tried something like that again, she’d leave and never speak to him again.

She shook her head, clearing those thoughts from her head as she made her way to the Headman’s house to get her assignment.

She knew from day one most of her peers wouldn’t take her seriously. She was on the short side, standing only 5’03” and had a very slender build. Out of her armor, her long blonde hair that had a tendency to fall over half her face and large, deep green eyes made her look like the average girl-next-door trope. But between her aura and training, her slight frame held a shocking strength, letting her overpower most boys her age and even many much older. This immense strength and her natural ferocity earned her the nickname of Björn, or bear from her teacher. He even had it emblazoned on her pauldron when he gave Sonia her armor.

Sonia smirked. She’d prove her nickname true once again in these woods tonight.

 

* * *

 

Sonia hopped out of the Bullhead, grabbing her weapon and held it up, scanning the landing area. Satisfied it was clear, she gestured for the pilot to fall back.

The Grimm in the forest had been getting more numerous lately, worrying the village and causing the village elders to call in Huntsmen and Huntresses. Realizing that paying 5 professionals could possibly cause a financial crisis for the town, the Headman approached Sonia to be the fifth. Agreeing to take half the pay and a discount from most shops for a year, Sonia had headed home immediately to prepare her armor and weapon. This led to her argument with her father.

Sonia headed deeper into the forest, her weapon lowered but still ready. After about five minutes of walking, she stopped. With a sigh, she let go with her off-hand and lifted her weapon to aim to the right of her, squeezing the trigger. With a harsh report, a 7.62 by 39 millimeter round tore through the underbrush and the skull of a Beowulf that had been sneaking, or attempting to, anyway, up on her. The Grimm slumped to the ground, already dissolving into greasy, inky black vapor. 

 

_**~(Song: Come With Me Now by Kongos)~** _

 

Sonia’s hand darted out and grabbed the casing as it flipped through the air. “The bunch of you? Trying to ambush me?” she snorted. “Amateurs.”

She swung around, her rifle barking as she quickly aimed and fired, rounds ripping through the forest and striking numerous Grimm. Her tutor was once an Atlesian soldier and Huntsman, and wielded a combat rifle similar in design to Gaia Splinter. He’d drilled her extensively in aiming and firing quickly while still taking in and understanding her surroundings. Without this at times grueling training, she likely would have tripped over the root she deftly stepped over without looking, or had her head taken off by the massive Ursa that swiped at her blindside, which she ducked and responded with a double tap from her rifle.

While the heavy round could rend Beowulf and young Ursa hide like paper, they merely served to annoy the Ursa Major Sonia had just shot. Taking note of the beast’s large size and numerous bony spikes, Sonia quickly reevaluated the Grimm. She began backpedaling, aiming for the more vulnerable joints but it wasn’t having the effect Sonia had hoped for. She grimaced when she heard the ominous click of a spent magazine and rather than reach for a fresh one, she activated the mecha-shift and spun her weapon around as it shifted into its cleaver form.

Charging in, Sonia continued to target the weak joints, her blade biting deep. Just as she was certain the fight had finally turned her way, another pair of lesser Ursai broke from the cover of the trees. A split second of hesitation was all it took for the Major to send Sonia reeling.

She quickly regained her balance in midair and dug her boots into the ground to slow her momentum, her hand dragging in front of her to help keep her balance. Sonia growled, finally having enough, and clipped her weapon back to her hip. Straightening up, she clenched her fists. Her eyes began to glow a bright yellow, her hands encased in a similar aura. With a swing of her arm not unlike the swipe that sent her reeling, Sonia triggered her Semblance. Spikes of stone erupted from the soil and impaled the two younger Ursai. The pair of unfortunate Grimm struggled briefly before succumbing and slowly beginning to dissolve into inky black smoke.

Semblances controlling a traditional element were rare. Polarity, Pyrokinesis, or her own Geokinesis, we’re extremely versatile but tended to be more of a drain on Aura than Speed or the Schnee family glyphs, but Sonia had trained to lessen it and also had the benefit of an unusually large amount of Aura.

Which was why she felt no worries in flaring her Aura and summoning a pair of jaggedly spiked slabs of stone from the earth on either side of the Ursa Major. She raised her arms again and swung them across her body, the glowing stone following her lead and slamming together like an Iron Maiden of antiquity. The dull thump, crackle of stone meeting stone and the instant leaking of familiar black vapor assured Sonia it had worked as efficiently as the barbaric tool.

Sonia gave a satisfied nod and drew her weapon once again, exchanging magazines before continuing her patrol.

 

_**~(End: Come With Me Now)~** _

 

* * *

 

The Headman, Roux Mazarin chuckled heartily and embraced Sonia, lifting the small young woman off her feet. “My dear girl, you are a treasure!” he exclaimed boisterously.

Sonia sighed fondly, far too used to Roux’s loud and affectionate nature to be upset - though the hug _was_ getting a tad too tight. She quickly tapped his arm as best as she could with own pinned to her sides by the embrace of the headman. Roux looked up, a tad confused. “While the praise is flattering, you’re beginning to warp my spine,” Sonia giggled.

Roux flushed a bit and set her down. “Sorry about that, dear girl. You have just save me more than a few grey hairs. With the Grimm driven back and not having to gouge the budget as badly as I feared. It also keeps the other elders from putting my arse in a sling, if you’ll pardon the language.”

Sonia giggled again. “I heard far worse from the Huntsmen we hired.” 

“What can I say?” came a gravelly voice from the doorway. “We’re a colorful bunch.” 

A tall, thin man likely in his early to mid forties strode through the open door of the Headman’s office. He had graying black, spiky hair, red eyes, and slight stubble along his jawline. With a red, tattered cloak, and a necklace with a crooked cross-shaped pendant. Under the cape and along the small of his back was what looked like a a collapsed broadsword, shaped like a single edged blade, but Sonia could tell what would normally be called the false edge was sharpened as well.

 

“Ah, Sonia,” Roux gestured to the newcomer. “This is Qrow Branwen, one of the Huntsmen working alongside you tonight, though I imagine formal introductions weren’t on the priority list.”

“You know how it goes,” Qrow rasped, taking a sip from his flask. “Things to do, Grimm to kill. Formalities can wait till the fun stuff is over. I heard there was an ankle biter hunting with us. You did good, kid.”

Sonia frowned. “I don’t remember seeing you after we boarded the Bullheads.”

“Had a little birdy keepin’ an eye on you,” Qrow returned with a smirk. “Anyway, Roux. Just dropped by to pick up my payment before heading to the inn to bed down for the night. Gotta be gone pretty early tomorrow.”

Roux nodded and went to his desk, pulling out a pair of envelopes. “Will your fellows be dropping by?” he asked.

“Nah,” Qrow grunted. “Already sawin’ logs when I left.”

“Then I request you send them here tomorrow so I may thank and pay them personally.”

“Will do,” Qrow rasped after taking another pull from his flask. “As for you, blondie,” he turned to Sonia before jerking his head towards the door. “C’mon. Wager you’re hungry and I could use a drink.”

Sonia decided not to mention the flask still in Qrow hand and looked to Roux. The Headman nodded. “Despite his gruff nature, Mr. Branwen is trustworthy, Sonia.”

“Alright,” Sonia sighed. “I suppose a late night meal would keep me from raiding the fridge at home. Lead the way, Mr. Branwen.”

“Bah,” the grizzled huntsman snorted. “Drop the mister bit, kid. Makes me feel old. It’s just Qrow.”

 

* * *

 

After a hearty meal provided by Morado, the innkeeper, Qrow pushed his plate to the side. “Alright, kid. I’ll cut to the chase. I’m guessin’ you don’t much feel like stickin’ ‘round here and playing town guard with that kinda training. Your old master, Koll, told me all about the runt he put through hell. So, since old Ozpin has me keeping an eye out for promising potential students, if you wanna keep going, I’ll wager he’d scoop you up before you can say Nevermore.”

Sonia had expected a pitch with how often the older huntsman had sent backhanded complements her way, but, given her age, she expected an offer for Signal at best. 

“You do know I just turned sixteen, right?” she asked.

Qrow snorted. “Seventeen is the recommended age, but Oz’s been known to bend that from time to time. You wouldn’t have been the first or the dozenth to get in a year or so early, but it doesn’t happen often. Honestly, you’re just that damn good. But, ultimately,” Qrow leaned back. “The choice is yours.”

Sonia looked down at the remains of her meal. “My father might be a problem. He doesn’t want me to be a Huntress full stop, so getting in early might give him an aneurysm.”

Qrow chuckled. “My brother-in-law is like that with his youngest. At the end of the day, though, he can’t stop her. And neither can your old man. He can try to talk you out of it, but if a certified huntsman and a Headmaster endorse and accept your application, he can’t legally do anything more than rant.”

Sonia lapsed into silence again. She knew her father loved her and wanted to protect her. And while his stubbornness grew more annoying by the day, she knew the real reason he didn’t want her to be a huntress.

But she couldn’t let her father’s misgivings stop her. This was what she was good at and wanted to do with her life. So she looked up and nodded. “Alright. I’m in. I’ll send an application in tomorrow morning.”

Qrow’s knowing smirk morphed into a mischievous grin. “Why wait?” he asked, reaching into his pocket. Before Sonia could inquire what the blazes he was talking about, he drew a battered scroll and equally scuffed stylus. Opening it into its tablet form, he turned it around and handed the scroll to Sonia. “Took the liberty of filling this out for ya. All it needs,” he tapped the screen with the stylus. “Is your mark.” When he noticed the slightly skeptical look, Qrow rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the old thing is a bit raggedy looking, but so am I, and we both work just fine.”

Sonia took the scroll and found all the pertinent information already filled out. She felt a small twinge of annoyance when she saw Qrow had marked her as shorter than she was, but he had everything correct or at the very least, very close. She quickly adjusted a few things ( _I am not_ that _short, thank you very much_ ) and scrolled down to where her signature was requested. She debated briefly, spinning the stylus like a pen around her fingers before quickly signing and handing both items back.

Qrow’s grin grew. “Alright, short stuff, someone from Beacon Academy should be in contact with ya within a few days.” His grin grew to a full chuckle when noticed the mulish scowl Sonia had directed at him as they stood up. “Sorry, kid. Your reactions remind me of my niece. Call her pipsqueak all the time and she gives me the same look.”

Sonia scoffed. “Not very gentlemanly to make fun of a lady’s height.”

“Trust me, kid,” Qrow laughed. “You’re as much a lady as I am.” They walked to the door of the inn. Once outside, Qrow looked back to Sonia, reaching back into his pocket. “Here,” he said, drawing the envelope Roux had given him and handed it to Sonia. “I ain’t that hard up for Lien at the moment. Honestly, I was planning on letting Roux keep it, but I’d wager you’ll need some spending cash when you get to Vale.”

Sonia was baffled. She was already pleased with her payment, but this tripled it. “You don’t-” she started only to be waved off by Qrow.

“Like I said, I don’t need the cash,” he said. “Trust me, it’s easier to buy extra rounds in bulk in Vale than rely on the school. With the amount of brats running around with all sorts of calibers, it ain’t easy or cheap to keep them all swimming in brass. So keep it. It’ll take a bit of stress off the school and you.”

Sonia contemplated a moment before nodding, seeing the sense. “Thank you,” she said after a pause.

“You better get home kid,” Qrow grunted, scratching his stubble. “Sun’ll be up ‘fore ya know it. And, yeah this feels odd for me of all people to say, but, good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this sat half finished for far longer than I intended, but this is the last trailer before the prologue. You didn’t think I would leave out how my misfits met, did ya? The prologue will likely be a good deal longer than the trailers, but I have no idea how long. If I have to split it, both parts should be up around the same time. Anyone who’s taken a look at this, thanks for the chance and hope you enjoyed.  
> ~Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here’s the first trailer for my RWBY OC team; ONCS (Pronounced Onyx.) You got to meet Okami Ao, I like to think of as a different take on a common trope. Yes, I’m well aware the Wolf Faunus isn’t exactly original, but I had him in mind since I finished Volume one and had no interactions with the fandom as a whole at that time. That said, I’m going to endeavor to keep this in the same spirit as canon, but with my own spin and perspective. After all ONCS is gonna be playing a pretty big role, while hopefully keeping from overshadowing the main canon characters. 
> 
> Now, a warning. I will be making big changes to canon, but I won’t spoil anything other than to say flames will be ignore or outright ridiculed, both in messages and possibly in a chapter itself. I’m frankly done with self-entitled members of numerous fandoms, so if you don’t like how I wrote something, there’s a little X in the corner that will guard your special eyes from my evil. 
> 
> Rant over, I need to give credit where it is due. Cerci’s weapon is inspired by Hazard Bandit by darkusl0rd on Deviantart. I unfortunately used all of my creative talent on creating four weapons for my team and had no idea what to do beyond them. 
> 
> Anyway, those who read this, thank you for giving it a look. I honestly don’t know when the next trailer will go up since it’s honestly still in its planning phase and needs some fine tuning before I write but keep an eye out since once the trailers are done, I should have the first real chapter up the next day, beta free time willing. Thanks again. 
> 
> ~Sin


End file.
